


To Live

by highlyrelevantnumber (Leonora_Acker)



Series: Shapes [1]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Gen, International Fanworks Day, International Fanworks Day 2020, Meta, Prompt Fill, Sort Of, but oh well, definitely not a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22613860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonora_Acker/pseuds/highlyrelevantnumber
Summary: A Fara/Max fic in celebration of IFD 2020. A rather sad fic, but they are both alive and they are together.Various characters from Body of Lies, Zero Dark Thirty, and Person of Interest are mentioned. You don't have to be familiar with the above source materials to read this.Happy International Fanworks Day!
Relationships: Fara Sherazi/Max (Homeland)
Series: Shapes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627063
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	To Live

**Author's Note:**

> This came from my fever-afflicted brain so it may make no sense. Also, the fever/pain medication I was on at the time has been reported to cause hallucinations.

That day, the moment the door to their little home on the outskirts of Virginia opens, she notices something's wrong. The door opens and closes with a creaking sound, the motion of the key turning in the lock is abrupt, cut short. There is no cheerful greeting shouted before he even reaches the room nor the hurried shuffling of his feet in the hallway. As much as she adores his enthusiasm, most times nowadays she has to remind him that he maintain the quiet in the house; he will always apologize afterwards and he will kiss her and they will talk about their day while setting the table. She's spending a short period of time at home not because she has no intention of ever returning to Langley but purely because of the need she felt to devote herself to the little stuff, the seemingly unimportant stuff, the kind that gets thrown out of your life the moment you start working for the CIA.

When her husband reaches the doorstep, she remarks from the corner of her eye he's taken off his coat and hung it on the appropriately designated place in the hallway. _Strange_ , Fara thinks to herself, _usually he forgets_. He's far too forgetful for his own good these days and sometimes she will get exasperated at him for allowing himself to get distracted and forget to do his chores around the house. Maybe, though, it doesn't bother her this much, after all. She likes seeing him happy and less guarded, even if still a little clumsy. In fact, she doesn't see him like that anymore; in her heart, she knows he's beautiful– just in his own way. The Max Piotrowski way. And she knows he sees her as beautiful in her own way as well– the Fara Sherazi way.

He doesn't step inside the room, just stands there– too upright, too tense, carefully peering inside the room–, a throwback to older times she has overall very dark memories of, tinted with only a ray of hope. She turns around and casts her gaze upon him, smiling, her eyes warm and welcoming. She informs him the food will be ready soon, she's just adding the finishing touches.

"Go wash your hands, I want a full report of all the funny incidents over lunch!" But he doesn't move, doesn't envelope her with his warmth, doesn't kiss her.

_"I missed you."  
"I missed you, too. And guess who else did..."_

Max keeps standing there, frozen and lost in thought, far away from here and now. _A reality denied comes back to haunt_. She can't remember where she heard that. But they haven't denied themselves the reality they wanted, they fought for it and hoped and prayed and, above all, they love each other; otherwise a shared reality for the two of them wouldn't have existed. Then, which piece is she missing from the puzzle?

Putting the food aside, Fara slowly approaches to stand in front of him, reaching out a hand to caress his cheek. "Did something happen today? At the office?"

He looks as if her touch has snapped him out of his trance, slightly jumping at the physical contact. After a second, he relaxes a little, gently bringing his own hand up to rest on top of hers. His skin feels unexplainably cold. It seems to match how he feels inside.

"No," he offers simply, "nothing happened at the office." And, after a pause, he adds, his voice much lower as if he hadn't meant to say that aloud: "Not the “the world is going up in smoke” kind of, at least."

Fara frowns, her mind going immediately to some of their closest friends and their personal struggles. "Has Quinn relapsed or Carrie had an episode? Is Franny doing well in school?"

"No, no." Max shakes his head multiple times, reassuringly. "The crazy, little family of three are fine. Well, all things taken into account."

Quinn had caught the flu recently, resulting in complications and hospitalization. His system having been weakened because of the gas, it had been physically and emotionally draining– in the physical dimension mostly for Quinn while Carrie had taken enough emotional suffering for both of them. It had ended well, though, resulting in all of their close friends and colleagues breathing a sigh of relief. They were still not allowed to visit Quinn, however, and even his wife and stepdaughter had to wear masks around him because the doctors had explicitly warned that any relapse– however small– might prove devastating. Even so, with the red-haired angel reading him bedtime stories and the love of his life cooking him soups– less tasty even than what was provided at the hospital, in his opinion, but he's not going to complain fearing for his physical integrity– it appears the “bad boy with a softer side” is going to live to fight another day.

So, it isn't this that has upset him. Fara picks a different couple. "What about the adoption process Roger and Aisha have started? Any news?"

"Yes," Max replies, exhaling a breath, his muscles relaxing as the air leaves his lungs. He dips his chin to brush his nose on the tip of hers. Fara didn't realize she's been burying her face in his chest, losing herself in the familiar scent. "They went to see the kids at the institution and decide who they want to adopt with the administration."

Fara lifts her head, unable to suppress her excitement, softly bumping into Max's chin– not that he minds any. "Really? That's amazing news!"

For Fara, Aisha is what Quinn had once described to her as “one of those people”, the ones to whom “you connect”. It didn't take long for the two women to forge a solid, long-lasting connection. Their friendship goes beyond simply both of them being Iranian. At the top of the list of their shared experiences are war, loss of relatives, being forced to leave their country and relocate and having had miscarriages– Aisha too many to count whereas Fara only one. For these reasons, Fara strongly believes it's time Aisha got what she's been craving for– not just Aisha, Roger too. When their wish to have a child– regardless whether it's adopted– is finally fulfilled, Fara will be the first one to rejoice with them. She is sure other friends and team members will feel the same.

"Hopefully," Max adds, "the experience of fatherhood will tame Ferris somewhat and he will stop yelling at us for being inefficient or not observant enough."

Fara smiles, a little knowingly. "Most likely, if you're speaking from experience." She gives him a playful look and he grins. A few moments pass and they become serious again. "I don't think Roger does it on purpose because he wants to be mean or because he is an insensitive team leader," Fara offers her own perspective, "Personally, I think he and Quinn, as agents, operate based on the same logic. They are concerned with protecting people. Even if it means throwing too many challenges at their subordinates to handle." A pause and then: "Besides, we wouldn't be here now if no one had cared enough to help us." It's a painful memory to recall, but for them it had meant their beginning. Fara changes the subject quickly before they are both overwhelmed by sadness and flashbacks. "Did Maya make up with Dan after Monday's fight?"

"Yeah. They apologized to each other today. He's too much in love with her to let her slip through his fingers this easily."

"Mmm. Are we still talking about Dan here?"

"Of course. Who else might we be?" He appears to be– and really is– thoroughly confused by her question. In a different case, she might have explained– and she may do it later, when they're getting ready for bed and he asks about it– but right now she wants to keep the meaning of her words just for herself. "Did the Machine make contact?"

"No, it only contacts us via Root." He draws in an exasperated breath. "Who recently showed up at our safehouse outside the city on a purposeful attempt to irritate our nerves." Fara giggles and Max shoots her a glare. No, Fara doesn't get to have an opinion when she doesn't work with the woman. He will be forever grateful to the Machine and its assets for saving the love of his life and giving him a second chance with her, but this doesn't change the fact that Root **is** annoying. Fara flutters her eyelashes sheepishly and Max's gaze softens. He cannot stay mad at her, not really and not for long. Root is a completely different story, but let's not get into the details of that...

"So, I give up," Fara announces, feeling slightly defeated, "What clouds your mind this sunny day?"

With a heavy sigh, Max reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a smartphone– one of the many he has, that is. He unlocks the screen and hands it over to her to see for herself. What Fara is confronted with makes a frown form between her brows. Before her eyes there are fanworks of all sorts– from fanfic to posters and GIFs to vids to meta– in which fan-creators are expressing how much they miss her and what she meant to them. Fara feels blessed at that, it's moving how much she has impacted other people's lives when for a long time to her CIA superiors and coworkers she was “the girl with the hijab”. It's nice to see there are those who were able to look beyond “that thing on her head”– as Saul had so scornfully referred to it on her first day at the Agency. Fara is– and has been since her late teens– a woman who wants to be judged by her personality, not the things she wears. While she feels proud of herself for what she has achieved– and inspiring other people in the process as well–, the memory of the writers of _Homeland_ killing her off, even now, hurts more than the stabbing had.

She'd wanted to tell them she didn't want to go yet, she had so much to live for. She just _knew_ her journey was not over yet, there were so many adventures that awaited their team and she _should_ be there to support her friends. Of course, she was just a character on a TV show and her pleas got drowned out by the wishes of those who held her fate in their hands– literally. She had felt truly powerless back then.

It was a relief when she found out she wasn't dead because her dying wasn't the only way her story could go– and, besides, where's the fun in being a fictional character if you can't trick death with the aid of a resourceful fan's imagination? Even the tributes, not in her wildest dreams has she expected to be remembered as a person worth mentioning and appreciating.

Fara looks up at Max, tears in her eyes, and smiles. She's grateful he speaks for her because otherwise she doesn't know how she'd be able to put all of her– sometimes conflicting– emotions into words. "On the one hand, it's sad, I know," he says softly, wiping the tears off her cheek, "I found these by chance during my break at work today. And, before you can point that out, yes, I'm aware I shouldn't be stalking the intelligent and beautiful Fara Sherazi because her husband might send his assassin friends after me and he's CIA. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Tears were spilling from her chocolate brown eyes freely by this point and cracking some sort of a dumb joke seemed like a good excuse to make her laugh. She does indeed lighten up, reaching one hand to brush the tears away from her face. Max continues: "But, on the other hand, it's really heartwarming to see so many people missing you and honoring you and being inspired after all this time has passed."

Fara's eyes are beginning to dry up now and her voice is only slightly wavery. Their eyes are locked in a loving stare, their bodies hugging each other in a protective embrace. "I don't remember where I heard this," she starts to say, "It might come from the time I was still young living in Iran. Anyway... The point is, a long time ago someone told me we die alone and afraid. If we loved someone or meant something to another person, we may live on for we are not forgotten. But before anyone of us reaches the death part we actually have to live. And life is so full of hardships we can overcome the hurdles presented in our way only if we have someone standing by our side."

He smiles at her and she smiles back. They hold each other for a long moment, rocking back and forth, letting the weight of Fara's last sentence sink in– the discovery of a truth that summarizes the very essence of their existence. Their baby's loud cries from the nearby nursery eventually force them to break the hug.

Fara raises her head to look up at Max, her lips parting softly into a smile, their arms still linked. "I think our daughter missed you," she says and he lets out a small laugh, leaning down to press a tender kiss to the side of her neck.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Just take “13 Hours in Islamabad” and throw it out the Islamabad Station window. I just want to see Fara live... please.


End file.
